Searching For Life
by auzziewitch
Summary: Set six years after the finale. This is my first 90210 fic and if i get some information wrong i'm sorry. Better summary inside. Please Read and review! COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

_**Title:** Searching For Life_

_**Disclaimer:** Don't own Beverly Hills, 90210_

_**Summary:** Six years after the season finale, the people from Beverly Hills are leading very different lives. Dylan and Kelly left Beverly Hills for New York, where all of their problems seemed to evaporate. Now, six years later, those old problems are resurfacing for the worst, which causes Dylan to leave his new home, trying to find what happened to his life._

**Prologue**

The music pounded in the ears, the bass deafening; at the bar in the dim lights, groups of people had trails of cocaine and were sharing bills around. From the balcony above the dim blue lights, the alcohol, the dancing people, and the over-excited patrons, a man stood, leaning against the railing, in one hand a small glass of scotch, not drinking, just holding, almost as though he were smelling the pungent liquor.

From the bar below, any patrons looking up saw a man who really didn't care about the drugs, the probable deaths from overdoses, or the fact that the vodka was in short supply. Truth be known, he was bored; bored of this life, bored of New York, bored of waiting for his girlfriend.

Six years they'd been together; six years they'd managed to maintain a strong relationship; the move from Hollywood to the Big Apple one of the main contributors to their renewed bond. Yet still the same old issues were resurfacing, none more so than the drugs.

He tilted his head to see her blonde head against the bar counter, snapping up, and her hand instantly wiping her nose. He sighed; finally taking a sip of his scotch, leaving his position at the rail and heading into his office, the one room within the entire building were the heavy bass was non-existent. His office was his sanctuary, the one room he could escape.

He used to be like her, fixing his problems by escaping with drugs and alcohol, but then he got clean, got healthy and smiled, took a different perspective of life.

His bottom drawer he always kept closed and locked, only he knew of its contents, only he knew of the key. Sometimes he wondered why he kept his old yearbooks in a tightly secured drawer, sometimes he laughed about it. But it was his way of holding onto that small beam of hope that existed of life being fun-filled, an adventure.

That was high school.

He smiled at the pictures, one of him, Steve and Brandon; he missed them, but he would never admit it. Then there was one of his girlfriend and Brenda, how close they used to be. Then Brenda got the opportunity of her lifetime in London and they'd barely spoken since.

"What are you doing alone in here?" Her voice stunned him out of his pleasant silence, into hiding away the books, clicking the lock and hiding the key, all of which she giggled at weakly. "What are you hiding?" She walked over to him as he pocketed the key.

It was in these moments that he silently laughed at himself; why was he being so childish, looking at all his year books in secret? Were they all that bad? Sure his hair was almost as big as his ego, but then again whose wasn't? At least it wasn't a great ball of fluff like Andrea's was.

"You're missing out on all the fun." She smiled, walking not quite straight towards him.

"You're having enough fun for the two of us." He commented as she curled her arms around his neck, giving him a quick kiss. "Come on, I haven't seen you have fun in this place for ages." She moaned, swaying against him.

"Yeah well some one has to keep a level and straight head." He commented, escaping her grasp, retaking his seat at his desk and opening up the accounts book, becoming frustrated that the pounding beat was entering his escape.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked tilting her head, becoming serious.

"Nothing. You go back downstairs, have fun with your money, whilst I go over the books." He pointed her in the direction of the door.

"What's wrong with you?" She asked, becoming angry, the last thing he needed.

"Nothing's wrong."

"We bought this club together, to have fun, and I've only seen you have fun in it for the first month, ever since you've been a bore." She slapped her hand against his desk.

"You know what, Kel, you're absolutely right. I did have fun, then I realized that the books weren't going to do themselves. One of us has to be responsible." He stood, taking her by the waist and showing her to the door.

"You're not getting rid of me that easily." She responded to his body movements, making it as hard as possible for him to escort her out.

"Currently Kel, you're going to have a lot more fun downstairs with your lines than you are up here with me." Somehow he got her to the door, heaving her out, then clicking the door shut.

"Dylan!" She shouted once outside, earning a few heads to look upward, seeing her pounding against the door. "Dylan let me in!"

At first he thought he could handle her noise, but he couldn't. Instead grabbing the few things he had with him, including the year books from the drawer, and heading out the fire escape.

When Kelly suddenly remembered the existence of door handles she found the office empty. She stamped her foot in frustration, not noticing the fire escape door not closed completely, and headed downstairs out into the night.

"Dylan!" She screamed as she saw him walk out of an alley, his small back-pack over his shoulder, striding away from her not looking back.

Frustrated she ran after him, as she caught up with him her feet were in pain from running in her Jimmy Choo 4 inch heels.

"Where are you going?" She asked him as he continued to walk, not taking notice of her stumbling self.

"Home." He said simply.

"What, what about me, I'm just supposed to close up for myself?" She asked, aghast that she would have to speak with some of the employees.

"Yes." He said simply.

"I never close, you always do." She said, panic overcoming her as they turned a street corner.

"I know." He again said simply.

She stopped trotting beside him, just watching him stride away. "Dylan!" She screamed again. "What are you doing?" She shouted as he clicked the unlock button for his car, the orange lights flashing.

As he reached the driver's seat, he threw his backpack onto the passenger seat, before finally looking at her. "You know I thought I could do this, us again. But I just can't."

"Wait you cannot break-up with me." She shouted approaching his car.

He shrugged. "Oops. Bad decision by me, but I'm sticking with it." He commented sarcastically, taking a seat in his car and driving off as she continued to shout his name, well after her voice had become hoarse.

It was strange; all his time in New York he had considered himself to be happy. His life with Kelly was pure sailing and neither of them found their life paths returning to temptation, until recently at least. But now, in his apartment, he found himself skipping and singing songs he hadn't listened too in years as he grabbed a piece of bread, tossing pieces of it into his mouth, and grabbing the basic essentials, a change of clothes, his toothbrush and passport, before skipping out the door.

He didn't know where he was going, but he knew that a visit to D.C was in the works, given how many times Brandon had come to New York, and he or Kelly were yet to return the favour. He didn't know why he was dancing like Gene Kelly or Fred Astaire down the hallway to the elevator, just that he was, and he was tempted to break into a really bad rendition of 'Singin in the Rain' just like Kelly had made so famous in the same movie; but he thought better of it.

And for the first time he could remember, the music that was playing in the elevator didn't annoy him. Usually the sound of the operatic vocals and tune annoyed him because it was a complete paradox to all the people who resided within this apartment building.

As he walked out the door onto the street, he winked at Brian the door manager, who took the acknowledgement of existence from Dylan almost as though he was the timid and shy teenage girl who'd just been looked at by her crush.

Once outside the door, he stopped, dropped his things, looked up at the sky and spread his arms wide and high, being incredibly tempted to start screaming, before remembering that that was only possible in Los Angeles.

"Hey Moses you want a lift or not?" He heard a voice shout at him, the voice of a frustrated taxi driver on the street beside him.

Everything seemed so clean and bright as he was driven to JFK; it was all new, like he'd been living in this city for so long that he had been unable to truly appreciate its beauty. It was a completely surreal dream that he both wanted to wake up from, and never wake up at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

He was woken, by the face of a blonde flight attendant, informing him that he needed to put on his seat belt because they were coming in to land. He smiled thanking her.

Glancing out the window he looked down at the brightly shining area that was Washington DC. It always marveled him how great cities, where air pollution was fierce, and often where they looked hideous from ground level, could be so magical during night and from above.

His mind drifted back to another moment when he was coming into land in a foreign country by night. She had commented that the place they were soon to arrive in looked just like a fairy kingdom. He chuckled, the excitement she had shown.

What he would give to hear her softly giggling voice again.

He sighed to himself, buckling his seatbelt, folding his tray away, and closing the magazine he had been reading, sliding it back into the pocket in front of him. He listened to the familiar noises of the air breaks, the engines blurring, then buildings rise from the windows followed promptly by the thud of the wheels hitting the tarmac.

He made no attempts to hurry, when the sign was given for passengers to leave the confines of the plane, and he heard the comments from the passengers who were, smiling to himself that whilst he was in laid-back mode, the rest of the world still existed.

Half an hour later he found himself sitting in the airport lounge, downing a coffee and perusing the local phone directories. He chided himself for forgetting Brandon's number, and leaving his book at home, but still he smiled. Eventually he found himself within the depths of Washington's airport, taking his time to exit the premises.

He looked around at the world surrounding him, watching those who were in a hurry, flight attendants heading to and from their flights, people mingling, saying goodbye and welcome home. He had heard stories of people who had decided to live in empty terminals in certain large airports, and wondered what possessed them to do so? Was it saying hello and goodbye to different faces? Or the removed nature the place had, how it felt big and empty, yet closed off at the same time?

Finally he found himself a pay phone, and began flicking the pages to the hotels guide, looking for a place to stay. Unfortunately, Washington DC didn't seem to want Dylan McKay to sleep within its walls tonight.

As he turned a page he glanced up and saw the familiar stride of the man he wanted to visit, at the far end of the room. He had no idea why he was in the airport, returning from a conference he guessed. However it was the brunette woman he met and kissed on the cheek, and the small child that ran and clung to his legs that caught Dylan's attention.

He knew that face. He recognized that jaw, that grace of step. He never thought he could possibly see her again. The small child, a boy, appeared to be no older than ten, and it brought a sudden cold feeling to Dylan's stomach.

Surely not, he thought as he watched the trio.

He grabbed his bag and made the tentative moves towards them. Without noticing the oncoming man, the adults linked arms, Brandon carrying the small child, and began leaving the airport.

Dylan hurried his step, following them, jumping into a cab and ordering the driver to follow them. He didn't care how odd it may have looked, but as the cab drove past the house the cab ahead emptied itself, he took note of the address, before instructing the driver to drop him off at the first hotel he had found a free room.

They timing of the day was wrong to begin chasing after old friends, and he decided to wait until the following day before beginning his chase.


	3. Chapter 3

You have no idea how sorry i am to all of you for this delay. After extensive searching through my computer, i discovered i had deleted my file, so i've had to re-write all the chapters (apart from Chapters 1 and 2).

Thankyou to **p3h20**, **BRiNItA, hjj48jc42, HRae83**, **kikoobis**, **CrystalPersuasion**, and **Two Bodies One Soul** for your comments and encouragement for me to continue. It's really appreaciated.

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**Chapter three**

He was still living that dream as he walked along the sidewalk with a Starbucks coffee in hand. He couldn't remember waking up, or the joy he felt seeing the sun outside his hotel window, or dancing his way down the street to his favorite coffee store, or then hailing a cab and heading back to the house he'd left the night before.

All he knew was that now standing on the idealistic porch of the house he now stood before; nerves set in and began to drive him mad. He was about to knock one the door when it flew open to reveal a boy of about 16 or seventeen.

"Can I help you?" He asked in a tone that told Dylan this kid was a stuck up little brat.

'Great, Beverly Hills follows me everywhere.' Dylan thought to himself. "Is this Brandon Walsh's home?" Dylan asked the kid.

"Yeah, but he had a late flight last night so he's still in bed." The boy explained, looking back into the house.

"Joey?" A woman's voice called, and down the hallway, Dylan saw a woman with dark hair whom he knew he'd met, but he couldn't for the life of him think where from.

"Mom, this guy's looking for Brandon." Joey explained to his mother, who now appeared in the doorway.

"Dylan McKay?" The woman asked, and Dylan was still racking his brain and memories trying to think how he knew her.

"Yeah?" Dylan was confused.

"Melissa Coolidge, well, Walsh now actually. We went to school together." She smiled, holding her hand out for him to shake. "Joey I'll call you at eleven." She directed to her son.

"Yeah okay mom." Joey sighed leaving the house and around the fence, disappearing from sight.

Dylan was still confused and immediately tried to think back to the night before when he had seen Brandon at the airport. He had felt certain that it was Brenda he had seen, and the sight of that little boy was driving him mad. Although now that he thought about it, Brandon hadn't been with Melissa at a time when that boy was born. He was still confused as Melissa invited him in.

"Sorry about B. He flew in from Hong Kong late last night after visiting his parents. Jim's just been diagnosed with Cancer and Brandon was trying to talk him into coming home, what now that Brenda's back in the states with little Christopher." She continued talking, but Dylan had stopped listening. Brenda was back in the country, and had a son?!

"So tell me about you?" She finally asked and it took a few moments for Dylan to realise what she had said.

"Oh, well I've been in New York for the past 6 years, living with my now ex-girlfriend. We together owned a club but I walked out the other day, and I don't care about anything anymore. Quite frankly I don't think I've cared about anything for years." Dylan sighed, taking the glass of soda Melissa offered him. "To be quite honest I don't know what to tell you about myself other than what I just did. And I was in the neighborhood and remembered I owe Brandon a visit so I stopped by. How long have you and he been married?" He asked, still unsure how long that had happened.

"It's coming up to seven months. We met up in Chicago where he was doing some work and I was living. We got talking and before I knew it I was on a plane here and we've been together ever since. Joey loves him, remembers when he was still a baby and Brandon gave him ice cream." She smiled remembering the anger she had felt when she saw her son, melted ice cream dribbling down his face.

Dylan nodded taking a sip of his soda, his thoughts returning to _Brenda's back in the states with little Christopher._ Those thoughts would plague him until he had answers.

"I'm not dreaming. I am hearing Dylan McKay's voice in my humble home." Brandon's voice announced his presence, and Dylan had to laugh when he saw one of his oldest and truest friends standing before him in some pajama pants, his hair standing which-way, everyway, and his arms wide open.

"You're delirious." Dylan commented placing his glass on the counter and giving his friend a hug.

"And I'm jet-lagged, so you have absolutely nothing to worry about." Brandon responded chuckling.

Melissa excused herself from the room leaving the two men alone, Brandon now with a glass of juice in his hand.

"So what are you doing in this part of the world?" Brandon asked after they had exchanged basic pleasantries.

Dylan patted him on the back. "It's a long story, man. It's a very long story."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter four**

Dylan stayed at Brandon's for the rest of the day, with both of them catching up on everything that was going through the other's lives. Brandon couldn't help but be surprised when he heard Dylan's motives for leaving Kelly and New York, but as he thought about it longer, it didn't surprise him.

Dylan couldn't believe that Brandon had finally settled down, with an ex high school girlfriend. Then again, as he thought about it, he'd often seen him and Melissa sitting at a table talking and laughing, and now it didn't surprise him that much. He especially couldn't believe that Brandon had settled down with a woman who wasn't Kelly; he could just see her face when she discovered the news.

Throughout their entire conversation, Brandon always expected to hear Brenda's name uttered from Dylan's lips. At the same time, he tried to look for similarities between the man sitting opposite him, and his young nephew. But it never came, although that didn't quash the feeling Brandon had in his gut that Dylan was desperate to utter her name.

They had been talking for close on to an hour when Brandon noticed the time, and remembered that the woman who he knew Dylan most wanted to speak of was due to arrive for lunch with him and Melissa.

"Dylan, you must stay for lunch." Melissa's voice sounded from the kitchen. "Brandon's sister is coming and it would be wonderful for you and Brandon to not be interrupted." She appeared in the doorway.

Brandon, for a moment shot daggers at her, and then remembered she didn't know the complete history between his sister and Dylan. Melissa noticed his look and didn't say anymore.

"I don't know." Dylan responded, glancing at Brandon who was looking at neither his wife nor his friend.

Because she had offered the invitation with such a disposition, Melissa could only think of doing the polite thing and enforcing her invitation, and after a second half refusal from Dylan, she succeeded in her initial suggestion.

After a few moments of silence Brandon, beginning to feel sick with the silence between them, spoke. "I hope things won't be too awkward between you and Bren?" He asked, but Dylan picked up the warning he was sending: hurt my sister and die.

Dylan smiled in spite of himself, and looked to his lap. "I'll try, I promise." He glanced up at his friend, and, for the second time, as though on cue, the doorbell rang.

Along the hallway, the two men could hear Melissa's voice, along with that of a young child's, and a moment later, the same young boy Dylan had seen the night before appeared in the doorway and ran to Brandon, attaching himself to Brandon's legs like a leach. "Uncle Brandon!" He had cried with the same usual amount of boundless energy all children have.

"Hello Christopher." Brandon moaned, wincing as he felt the young boy's alarming amount of strength pressing into his thighs. "This is Christopher." Brandon told Dylan whilst pointing down at Christopher's head which was pressed into Brandon's hip.

Dylan smiled at the interaction between child and uncle, but it was the thought that _she _was bound to walk through that door any moment that had Dylan's heart pumping.

Brandon, who was talking to Christopher, hadn't noticed that the young boy's attention was focused squarely on staring at Dylan. Dylan however, did notice the boy's attentions and stared back at him, whilst at the same time looking for Brenda in his face. His nose, his cheek-bones, his well-set eyes he recognized immediately, whilst his bone structure was far more masculine, similar to Brandon's, yet at the same time different. His hair was also the same as the feminine Walsh twin, and had been cut loose, but close to his head. His eyes were the most difficult. From the distance between them, and the light, Dylan couldn't tell whether they were blue or green.

By this point, Brandon had realized Christopher wasn't paying any attention to him. He glanced at Dylan who was staring at the little boy, still clinging to his legs, then back at Christopher's head.

Brandon had never had the courage to ask Brenda about the paternity of her son, instead relying on her announcement that it was a one-night stand, and she hadn't got the guys number. But there had always been that doubt. He had known Dylan and Brenda had got together during his few years away from Beverly Hills after Toni's death, and had such wondered whether she had been lying. But he wasn't about to question her about it, because he knew she would close herself off and most likely leave again. What he most hoped was that Dylan would only see Brenda in the little boy, and if indeed he saw any of himself, he would have the heart to not ask questions whilst he was a visitor in Brandon's house.

"Christopher, do you know who this is?" Brandon asked, squatting down to be at the little boy's level. Christopher shook his head.

"Dylan?" Brandon opened his mouth to speak, but instead, heard Brenda's voice in the doorway.

Everyone was silent as they all looked to each other, Brenda staring at Dylan, and he back at her. Brandon, Melissa and Christopher all looked between the two confused and with apprehension, whilst Christopher, after staring at his mother for a moment, resumed staring at Dylan.

Brandon sighed inwardly. This was going to be hard.


	5. Chapter 5

_First off, I have to say that this chapter is short. That said, I'm hoping that the next one is longer._

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**Chapter Five**

It was hard. The entire lunch which was meant to be a friendly happy time, was spent in awkward silence, and it was Dylan who felt the most pressure. He had seen the look Brandon had shot Melissa and now all he wanted to do was leave. But he didn't want to leave because he wanted to see Brenda. He wanted to hear her voice speak to him in more favorable terms other than her little "It's good to see you" she had given him at her arrival.

The lunch Melissa had prepared was predominantly salad with some cold chicken and steak. Melissa tried making small talk, and Brandon even attempted a light hearted quip about how Dylan and Kelly had been together for six years and they hadn't married, or even got engaged. This seemed to attract Brenda's attention, although she attempted to hide it.

Dylan just shrugged in response to Brandon's question, saying that it wouldn't have been right. Brenda glanced at him, but when she looked away Dylan continued to watch her.

The moment Dylan had eaten a plate, he excused himself and bolted from the house. Outside he stood on the grass leading to the street breathing for a few moments, before he walked away.

He wasn't familiar with Washington, so he just walked where his feet took him. After about an hour of walking nowhere, he found himself in a wide park. He wandered wearily to a bench and collapsed onto the hard wood, then rubbing his face.

Dylan ignored the sound of feet approaching him, and didn't look up when he heard them stop and the bench shuddered as someone else sat down.

"I haven't seen you in ten years and yet you're exactly the same." Her voice sounded.

Dylan looked up, stunned to see her sitting next to him, staring out at the open park with the city skyline appearing above the distant tree-tops. But he couldn't help but suppress a laugh.

"I'm not the same person I was ten years ago." He asked her skeptically.

At this she turned her head to stare at him. "Oh you are. Ten years have passed and you still don't know when you're being followed." She faced him, and there was a look of something in her eyes that he wasn't used to seeing from her.

At her words he had to emit a chuckle as he remembered all the times she had followed him from her apartment in London, to some park bench or café.

"I have changed Bren." He said quietly.

At this she smiled at him. "Yeah, you've grown up, and thus you no longer need me to save you from drinking or drugs, which was the reason why you ended up on my stairs in the middle of a snow storm." At this she smiled, stood and walked away.

Dylan remained sitting on the bench, watching her back retreat from him. He had half a mind to follow her, but couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead he remained in the park, thinking about what she had said to him.

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_Don't forget to review!_


	6. Chapter 6

_Thanks for all your reviews guy's, it's much appreciated. (And as always, don't forget to review after you've read this chapter)_

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**Chapter Six**

Dylan sat on the bed flicking channels. Late night TV, he concluded as he finally turned it off, was, if possible, worse than daytime. Contenting himself in the stillness and quietness of the room and hotel at 1.30 am, he couldn't help himself but think about her. She had told him he hadn't changed; only that he'd grown up.

The dim light from the bedside light glowed throughout the room, and as he continued to lie on his bed thinking about her, he started to think about Christopher. There was a familiarity about him that was off putting for Dylan. At first he had put it down to it being simply seeing Brenda within the boy, but the longer he thought about it, the familiarity became awful, and thoughts crossed his mind.

He was well aware of the fact that he hadn't seen Brenda in over ten years, but when they'd ended things, and he'd left London, it wasn't as though they had been pulling apart before hand. Hell, they'd been to Venice and Florence a few weeks previously, perusing the streets and stalls, being the couple they had meant to be, finally and rightly so, or so it seemed in Dylan's mind. It was almost like they were back in High School, running and giggling and hugging each other. He remembered the nights they had spent in each other's embrace, how much love they had shared for those wonderful months.

But then they returned to London and had that ridiculous argument about repainting the apartment, and they fell apart. He had tried staying in London after they broke up, but everywhere he went, she would be. He returned to Beverly Hills, and too all the temptations that came; the drugs, the alcohol, Kelly, and no-one was there to save him.

He jumped to his feet and walked out the open doors and past the billowing curtains, to the balcony, and couldn't help but stare out at the capital city. He could see the Whitehouse, blazing with light and standing out from the darkness surrounding it; the Pentagon also, and modern buildings that reached into the sky, all lights blazing.

He'd always believed that New York was the greatest city by night, and looking out at his surroundings, he began to appreciate the apartment he had shared with Kelly. Their apartment was perfect. In one direction they were gazing out at Central Park, and in two opposite directions they had views of downtown Manhattan, and the Empire State Building.

It was as he was thinking about everything that the issue of familiarity with Christopher hit him. He'd learnt that he was 10, and that Brenda was yet to divulge the truth of his paternity. Dylan didn't realise his glass of water was shattering until he felt glass shards embed themselves in his hands.

"Shit!" He exclaimed to himself, dropping the glass on the balcony, and heading inside to the bathroom. With the light on he turned the tap on, washing his hand of the blood, and attempting to remove the glass.

He couldn't believe Brenda! He had left her in London, pregnant, but she didn't even tell him!

He knew Brenda had spent many occasions feeling the effects of broken promises he had made her, but he didn't realise that she could ever keep something like that from him.

"She told me when she was late in High School. Why didn't she tell me this time?" He said to himself, frustrated.

Once he had finished washing his hand, he only felt relief as he observed his scratched fingers and palm, meaning he didn't require a trip to the local hospital, and with that thought, he decided to go to bed.

When he awoke later that morning, his hand, which was aching slightly, led him into the bathroom, and there he pulled out his small supply of pain killers, downed a couple, then splashed his face a few times with some water. _I need a beach, and a surfboard_ he thought to himself as he stared at his reflection in the mirror.

The ringing of the phone was what woke him up from his dreams of huge swells to appear in the land-locked city.

Lazily he walked to the phone and in the most bored and tired voice he could muster, answered it.

"Shit, Dylan, did I wake you up?" Brandon's voice came down the line. With this, Dylan sat down on the bed, and immediately felt like falling asleep again.

"No that I can do on my own." He chuckled. "How did you find out where I was staying?"

Brandon sighed. "Well, if I know you as I do know you, Dylan McKay, you would only be staying in a 5 star hotel. And given I wanted to apologize to you about what happened yesterday, I've been calling every hotel in town all morning." Both men chuckled at this, before Brandon continued.

"Look D, I'm also calling on Brenda's behalf." At this Dylan sat up so quickly it made him dizzy for a few moments. "Except she doesn't know that I'm calling."

"What do you want Brandon?" Dylan groaned holding his head.

"I want you two to talk. Being in the same room as you guys it was hard and I want to ensure that if ever something like this happens again, it's not hard."

Dylan was about to respond when he heard a knock on the door. "Hey B, can I call you back? There's someone at my door and it's probably my breakfast."

Brandon replied in the affirmative and Dylan was on his way to the door. He glanced at his watch and realized that he hadn't ordered his breakfast to arrive this early, but whoever was there knocked again.

"Maybe I ticked the wrong time." Dylan thought to himself before he opened the door. "Brenda?"


	7. Chapter 7

_ME BIG BIG DUMMY!_

_For all those who may have noticed confusion previously, this is why. I put the wrong chapter up. I know, i know, real intelligent. Especially given i have only NOW just noticed my mistake._

_So i'm really sorry about that, but for all those new readers who have no idea what i am talking about, don't worry!_

**Seven**

Dylan never thought he could be as shocked to see a person as he was then. Brenda was standing in front of him looking incredibly nervous for someone who the previous day had merely looked slightly put out.

"Can I come in?" Brenda asked, her voice quivering. It reminded Dylan of some times in the past whenever she would talk to him after she'd been crying.

Dylan nodded and stepped aside, watching as she entered the room, looking around. "For what reason do I enjoy the pleasure of your company?" He asked her as he shut the door, cramming his fists into his pockets and just watching her.

"I need to talk to you." She stated, turning to face him, and here he noticed she no longer looked nervous, but sad, given her eyes were beginning to get that damp look about them.

Dylan nodded, before realizing there was someone missing. "Where's Christopher?" He asked.

She shook her head. "He's with Brandon. What I need to talk to you about concerns him."

Dylan nodded, moving his hands from his pockets and walking past her. The surprise at seeing her had worn off and he once again felt the frustration from not being told about his son. "Are you here to tell me that I'm Christopher's father?" He asked sitting down on the bed.

Brenda stared at him shocked, before closing her eyes, hurt. _Of course he would work it out himself _she thought angrily to herself. _I was a fool to think I could keep this from him._ Without opening her eyes she nodded weakly, biting her lip.

"Great!" Dylan cried angrily.

"Dylan, I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't. I couldn't tell you over the phone, but at the same time I didn't have the money to get a flight to L.A. And then Brandon told me that you were trying to get back together with Kelly, and because I had received David and Donna's wedding invitation at around that time, I was hurt Dylan, and I didn't want to see you."

"But there was three years in between!" Dylan retorted turning to face her.

"I don't know what I was thinking after that. Only that I didn't want to ruin your chances of happiness, even if I didn't like your decision as to who made you happy, and telling you that I had a son, your son. I couldn't do that; I couldn't be that mean to Kelly." She admitted, turning her attentions to the carpet.

Dylan sighed angrily. "For the record, I'm not angry because I have a son, in fact I couldn't be happier. What I'm angry about is that I find out about it ten years into his life." When he finished speaking he bit his tongue, angry that his voice was rising when it didn't need to.

"Why did you leave Kelly?" Brenda asked timidly, afraid of his reaction.

Dylan turned to glare at her. "Why on earth do you want to know that? So you can gloat?"

Brenda winced. "You've been with her for six years. Why didn't you marry her or get engaged to her? Why are you here?" She didn't know why she was asking these questions, but she wanted answers.

Dylan watched her. She had no look of sinister curiosity in her countenance, and after a few moments, he walked over to the doors to the balcony, pushing the curtains aside and allowing sunlight into the room.

"I'm not going to lie to you Bren, but I always thought that if I couldn't have you, Kelly was my next option." Brenda followed him, taking a seat in one of the chairs that overlooked the balcony.

"Why because we came from similar worlds." He continued. "After being together in Beverly Hills for a year, old strains were popping up in our relationship, but we wanted to make it work, and a change of scenery was in the end what we needed.

"So we moved to New York, and we bought a club and everything was all fun and roses for couple years. More problems came up, but we were both willing to make it work, so we visited a counselor and she suggested that we both take a year off, maybe travel, just enjoy each other.

"So we spent a year on the road, however that was one of the worst years of my life – I never want to go to Paris, or Milan or any other 'Fashion Capital of the world' – because I was dragged from fashion store to fashion store. Then we came back to New York, and we went right back to how we were.

"Two years later, I noticed some guys snorting coke at the bar, so I have them kicked out, only to discover a couple of hours later that they're back in the club and Kelly's snorting a couple of lines. The past year, I've been standing upstairs looking down, watching as she snorts line after line of coke, and Bren, you and I both know what happened to me before I came to London." Brenda nodded remembering the mess he had been in when he showed up on her doorstep.

"Then, a week ago, I realized I'd had enough, and that I haven't been living a proper life since we agreed to give things another shot." He turned to look at her, taking the seat in front of her and leaning across the table between them. "Brenda, I want to find my life again. Nothing's been the same. When I stood on the sidewalk outside of the apartment building that night I left, it felt as though I hadn't breathed in years."

Brenda sighed and grabbed his hand. "So, where were you going to start looking?"

Dylan shrugged. "I don't know. All I knew was that I owed Brandon a visit, and that my legs were leading me." He admitted, staring at Brenda's hand which was centimeters from his own after she had let him go. "And I wanted to see you, so maybe I would have gone to London."

"It's a good thing you didn't." She smiled weakly, biting her lip.

Dylan could still see some tears in her eyes and instinctively reached across and brushed them away with his thumb. Brenda closed her eyes at the contact, unknowingly leaning into his touch.

"You don't realise how much I regret that argument." She whispered, her eyes opening slowly and finding themselves caught in his own. "Do you realise that after you left I didn't paint it at all?" She felt a laugh come from her lips, and she watched as he smiled, remembering how he didn't think they had needed to paint it at all.

His hand moved to brush strands of hair from her face to behind her ear, but he immediately returned his hand to her cheek. "What happens now?" He asked, brushing her skin with his thumb.

"You deserve to meet Chris properly, and I owe my family the truth." Dylan smiled at her, but they made no attempt at moving, just enjoying the moment they found themselves in and wishing it to never end.

_Remember to review_


	8. Chapter 8

**Eight**

Brandon was in the kitchen drying some glasses at the sink when he watched his sister and Dylan walk up to the house holding hands. A frown crossed his face as he remembered all the things Dylan had put her through before, and how could she possibly take him back, but at the same time, he smiled to himself, knowing that in front of him were two people who would _always _be meant for each other.

He finished drying the glass in his hand and placed it on the rack, placing the dish towel on the counter beside, and heading around to the door.

"Joey, turn that music down!" He called up the stairs as he heard his stepson's music blaring. He heard the volume drop, but not by a lot. "That's a good kid." He smirked to himself as he moved on to the door.

"What are you going to tell him?" Dylan whispered in Brenda's ear as they walked from Brenda's car up to the house.

Brenda glanced at him and shrugged. "The truth. It's the only thing I can tell him. I'm sick of lying, and like I told you back at the hotel, my family deserves the truth, even if they have guessed Chris's paternity." She admitted.

Dylan pulled her close as they continued up the steps. "Well just remember that I'm here, and I'm not leaving, not again." He kissed her forehead.

They came to a stop at the door and Brenda turned in his grasp, looking up at him. "I still don't trust you Dylan, which I know is pretty ridiculous given I always seem to trust you." She looked at the floor between their feet.

"Bren, I told you once. "I'm not leaving. I'm over the life of endless nights clubbing and getting high because it's the only thing that makes me feel good because you're not in my life."

"Jeez that makes me feel good." Brenda shrugged.

"C'mere." Dylan sighed, taking Brenda in a hug. "I love you Bren, always have, always will. And I promise you, I have more with you than I could ever with anyone else." He whispered into her ear.

Brenda just held him, knowing that he was fighting for what he wanted, and glad of it.

"Are you two going to come in, or stay on my porch all day?" They heard Brandon's voice announce his presence.

--§--

The trio was sitting in the main room, Dylan and Brenda together on one couch, Brandon opposite them. Brenda was speaking, telling the story of her and Dylan in London (the clean version) with Dylan inserting various statements at various moments. Brandon just sat and nodded, already seeing that what was coming, was Brenda announcing to him that Dylan was Chris's father.

Brandon seriously wondered why she was even bothering. This story he'd heard before, of their break-up. But then he'd always heard how she was so depressed about Dylan leaving that she got drunk about a week after he had left, and woken up naked in another man's bed.

"Can I interject something here?" Brandon questioned, staring at the couple in front of him.

Brenda and Dylan looked at him curiously, although Dylan was preparing himself for Brandon to announce that he had known all along that Brenda was lying and that he knew Dylan was Christopher's father.

Brenda just looked to her big brother confused.

"Is what you're trying to tell me, that Dylan is Christopher's father?" He asked, looking from his sister to Dylan. As he looked to Dylan, he could see that Dylan had made a correct guess at what was about to be said, whilst his sister just dropped her head to the floor.

"How did you know?" She asked him with a weak voice.

Brandon shrugged, leaning back into the sofa. "I think I always have, and it was a lucky guess. Plus I have too many damn photos of that boy" he pointed to Dylan "in all my school books, to recognize that Chris has his nose."

Brenda smiled. "Yeah he does." She looked to Dylan and rested a hand on his thigh. Dylan turned and smiled at her.

"But now I just have to ask," Brandon went on. "How are you going to tell mom and dad? They don't have all the photos of Dylan to be able to see him in Chris."

Brenda sighed. "It's not how we're going to tell Mom and Dad." She turned to Dylan. "It's _how_ we're going to tell Dad."

This Brandon nodded at. "Very true."

"The truth?" Dylan spoke.

Brenda looked up at him and smiled. "It's the only thing we can tell them."

_Yeah, i know, i know. Just review_


	9. Chapter 9

_Okay, first of all i am so sorry for taking sooo long to post this, the final chapter of this story. _

_Second, i would like to thank (again) all of you who have read and enjoyed this story so much they reviewed it. I would then like to thank all those who read this story, liked it, but couldn't be bothered reviewing it (i know you're out there in the world because i do it myself)._

_Finally, to all those who i'm certain wanted this story to go on forever, i bring you the final installment of __Searching for Life and i hope you enjoy reading it, and don't hunt me down because it's taken me a number of months to give you it._

--§--

**Epilogue**

Dylan had absolutely no idea what happened. Brenda walked in the front door in tears, and an hour later Jim Walsh was in the apartment giving his blessing to his daughter's renewed relationship.

Dylan couldn't be happier, he'd made a commitment to Brenda, and no argument over what colour the living room should be painted was going to end that.

Three weeks after he discovered he was a father, Brenda asked him to move in with them. At first it was on a strictly friendship basis, with both adults sleeping in separate rooms, whilst during the day they reformed their relationship.

Although he had made a commitment, Dylan knew it was going to take time before their relationship would be the same as the one he had left. He just hoped that that time wouldn't be too long. But he refused to put pressure on Brenda, especially when she contacted her parents, and set the basis for revealing the truth over Christopher's paternity.

The night came when she was to tell them. Both had agreed that it would be easier for Brenda to tell them on her own, and whilst Dylan had initially been against the idea, he accepted that he hadn't seen the Walsh seniors for years, and that seeing them again, whilst at the same telling them that he and Brenda were back together, _and _that he was Christopher's father, would be a massive shock.

So on the night Brenda was seeing them for dinner, Dylan was scooping some pasta into a bowl for Christopher, clad in a pair of tracksuit pants and a loose fitting wife beater, his hair still dripping slightly from a shower, watching as Brenda rushed about, pushing an earring into her ear, and complaining about why she couldn't find her left shoe.

"It's going to be okay, Bren." He called as she emerged from the bathroom, walking in that strange way people do when one leg is four inches longer than the other.

"You try telling that to my father." She huffed, disappearing into her bedroom.

Dylan sighed, picking up the bowl, and one for himself, whilst calling Christopher away from his play-station and to come eat dinner.

Finally she appeared with both shoes on. She stood in the archway between the entrance hall and the kitchen, watching as Christopher scurried up to the table. "Wish me luck." She sighed.

Dylan motioned for her to come over, smiling when she was in front of him. He pulled her hand to his mouth and placed a kiss on her palm. "Good luck." He whispered.

She smiled at him, leaning down and placing a kiss on his lips. "Thanks. Be good for dad, Chris."

She was gone for two hours, in which time, father and son spent too much time on the play-station, with the son winning more games than his father. Luckily, when Brenda got home Christopher was in his room doing some homework.

Then Jim appeared, and suddenly Dylan's life seemed different. After giving his spiel on why Brenda was being foolish making a life with a man who left her over a fight about paint colours, he eventually realized that Dylan was no longer the lost soul he had been.

As Dylan fell asleep, for the first time in the same bed as Brenda, he felt different. It wasn't because of the sleeping body nestled in his arms (in pyjamas), but more like he was complete.

Those words Jim had uttered, 'I'll see you for Thanksgiving' had stopped the brain spin Dylan felt as though he'd been experiencing his entire life.

Everything was clear as he stared up at the ceiling, and for the first time, he knew he'd found a real family, and thus he'd found his life.

**Fin**

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_For the final time, don't forget to review! _


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